


To Get From There to Here

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Illnesses, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 14:25:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 9,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A series of unconnected three (or more) sentence stories originally posted on tumblr, charting Hawke and Fenris's relationship from beginning to end of the game and beyond, with a few AU ficlets thrown in for good measure.





	1. Hawke is a patissiere, Fen has a sweet tooth

Oh god, it’s him again – the one who likes the dark chocolate eclairs, the really elegant ones that Hawke is admittedly very proud of, but still, this guy is – he’s an elegant-eclair sort of guy, tall and slim with white hair – white hair! – and green eyes, and if Bethany was in here right now she would be teasing Hawke so very badly about his eclair-loving crush.

He smiles, hopefully not too desperately, and eclair guy smiles back; Hawke says, “Good afternoon! The usual?” and eclair guy nods with the faintest hint of a smile dancing around his lips, and is it just Hawke or does that tiny smile make him even more attractive?

Hawke packages it up in the nicest box his store offers, the kind that they usually charge extra for, and even adds a mini eclair, just for him – after all, he is the eclair guy; he hands it over and receives a warm smile in return, and then somehow it happens: “I – I’m not very good at this,” eclair guy says, “But would it be rude to ask what time you get off work?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked for prompts to write these fics; these will be in the chapter titles, and where needed, the full prompt will be in the notes.


	2. Summer clothes

Hawke moans; he knows he’s being dramatic but it’s so hot – even worse because Fenris seems to not mind it in the least. He’s lounging on the chair in Hawke’s bedroom, sitting sideways with his legs over the arm and a book in his lap. He’s wearing a slightly unusual outfit, with one arm and shoulder completely bare. It’s a good look for him. It almost distracts Hawke from how disgustingly humid it is right now – almost.

“Why is it so warm?” He moans, and Fenris looks up at him with a flicker of a frown.

“Because it’s summer, Hawke.”

“Summers weren’t like this in Lothering. I swear – we had proper summers in Ferelden.”

“And what is a proper summer?”

Hawke thinks back. “Well – grey and rainy.”

Fenris snorts and turns back to his book. “Delightful.”

“You don’t seem to mind the heat.” Hawke sounds a little petulant, even to his own ears.

“It was hotter than this in Tevinter.” He doesn’t even look away from his book. “I’m used to it. Try wearing something like this; it helps.”

Hawke is currently lying on the bed in nothing but his underwear; Fenris is wearing that one-armed tunic and the kind of leggings he always wears. He’s not sure how that would be any cooler than wearing practically nothing.

“You just want to see me with my arms on show.” He pauses. “Even more on show than normal.”

Fenris still doesn’t look away from his book, though his lips twitch in a smile. “If there was any more of you on show, you’d be naked.”

Pushing onto his elbows and putting a hand to his chest dramatically, Hawke gasps. “Fenris! Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? Because that would be make me feel even hotter.”

“I wasn’t suggesting anything,” Fenris says, and after a moment, puts his book on the windowsill and strides over to the bed, shedding tunic and leggings as he goes. “But since that’s on your mind…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [Nachtgespenst:](http://nachtgespenst.tumblr.com/) For your three sentence fic thing in honour of the weather- Our fave dog lord doesn't handle the heat as well as someone who's lived so long in Tevinter, so Fenris takes pity (or not.)


	3. Fenris has sensitive ears. Like. Really sensitive.

The first time it was an accident.

Hawke had been leaning in to whisper something about how Isabela was cheating at Wicked Grace, and his lips accidentally brushed against Fenris’s ear. He’d jerked away with a noise that was partly a gasp and mostly a moan, a noise that instantly became Hawke’s favourite sound in the whole world. Fenris’s cheeks had been stained with pink and he’d glared at Hawke, who had blinked at him.

Fenris had coughed and lifted his cards a little higher, as though they could hide him from the circle of confused and curious card sharks around him.

Incredibly, no-one had said anything - not even Isabela, though she’d had this look in her eye, like she was formulating a plan.

Whether or not she ever put that plan into practice, he doesn’t know; but since Fenris is half-naked in Hawke’s bed a month later, making that noise again as Hawke trails kisses down his ears, he doubts it.

“Hawke,” Fenris whispers as Hawke bites his earlobe gently. “Hawke.”

“Hmm?” Hawke doesn’t move away. Instead he lifts a hand to Fenris’s other ear and touches the tip, featherlight. He receives a sharp punch to the shoulder for his efforts and another glare.

“Stop that. Do something useful,” Fenris says, putting his hands on Hawke’s shoulders and pushing down.

Hawke chuckles and kisses his way down Fenris’s body. “As you wish,” he says, and soon Fenris is making all kinds of delightful noises.


	4. hawke coming up with cute nicknames for fenris

“Amatus,” Hawke says with what he thinks is a dashing smile; Fenris frowns and says, “Your accent is terrible.”

“Ma vhenan,” he tries the next day, and Fenris raises an eyebrow; “I’m not Dalish; and besides, you’re pronouncing it wrong,” he says, but Hawke thinks he might see a gleam of humour in Fenris’s eyes.

“My love, my darling, o sweetest of sweethearts,” he says the week after, and this time Fenris chuckles and looks at him fondly; “Amatus,” he says softly, and it does sound completely different than Hawke’s attempt - much better in Fenris’s voice, better still directed at him, especially when followed up with a kiss.


	5. moden au. hawke and fenris in swimwear

It had been Hawke’s suggestion to go to the beach. The weather’s been lovely, Varric’s van has AC and Isabela knows somebody who knows somebody with an apartment they can crash at for the weekend. 

However, Hawke forgot one very important thing: swimwear. Specifically, Fenris in swimwear. A fairly small blue pair that just about covers his very fine arse and Hawke cannot stop staring. It’s embarrassing, and Varric and Isabela aren’t even pretending to hide their laughter. Even Anders is chuckling to himself. 

It gets even worse when Fenris catches him looking, gives a very evil grin and then bends over to grab a beer from the cooler, giving Hawke the perfect view of his arse. 

“You’re all terrible people,” Hawke huffs, and they all laugh harder, because they are, they really are. 

“I’m sure I can make it up to you later,” Fenris says, handing him a beer. He’s still grinning, and he smiles so rarely that Hawke can’t begrudge him, not really. 

“You better.”


	6. fenris, hawke and dog.

“Hawke,” Fenris says, his voice cracking as Hawke kisses down his neck, across his collar bone, and runs his hands over every inch of Fenris’s bare skin; he’s shivering, gasping, caught in pleasure, drowning in it-

Ruff!

The bark jerks Fenris right out of the moment, as does the canine panting; Dog is sitting at the foot of the bed, watching them, and it is most disconcerting.

“Oh, Maker,” Hawke mutters, and climbs out of bed to usher Dog out of the room - with some difficulty, since Dog wants to play. Finally he manages - by telling Dog that Sandal will play with him - and turns back to Fenris with an apologetic grin. “Sorry about that. Now where were we?”

Fenris considers - briefly - telling Hawke that he’s not in the mood now, but spending a moment trailing his gaze over Hawke’s muscles does the trick.

“Lock the door, Hawke,” Fenris says, with a smile and a crooked finger. “And get over here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [Kazechama.](http://kazechama.tumblr.com/)


	7. The impact of slow lyrium poisoning on Fenris

Fenris is in constant pain; he can’t bear to be touched, when he needs to be touched, when Hawke wants to touch him most.

Sometimes he’ll forget who Hawke is, forget where he is, forget everything that’s happened since he won his freedom; he’ll think Danarius is still his master and wonder where he is, what he did wrong, why his master has abandoned him; lyrium poisoning is cruel, so cruel.

“I want it to stop, make it stop,” Fenris begs, shaking uncontrollably, his voice broken by pain and memories he can’t hold back anymore; Hawke can do nothing to help except tell him that he loves him, and that’s not enough, not nearly enough; the lyrium is tearing Fenris apart, and it’s tearing Hawke’s heart out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [Impextoo:](https://impextoo.tumblr.com/) The impact of slow lyrium poisoning on Fenris and his loved ones (Hawke, natch and anyone else you deem fit ).


	8. Fenhawke massage

“Everything alright?” Fenris asks, eyebrow raised, as Hawke storms into the bedroom with a face like a thundercloud.

“I swear - between Meredith and Orsino-” Hawke cuts himself off and throws his shield and sword down. They clang noisily as they hit the floor and Fenris only just manages not to wince, feels the shadow urge even now to clean up, to tidy, to scurry away and stay out of sight.

Instead he stands and takes Hawke’s hands, kisses him and takes off his armour.

“Ignore them.”

“But-”

“For a day or two. Just ignore both of them. Ignore everything.” He pauses, meets Hawke’s eyes, grins crookedly. “Apart from me, of course.”

A little of Hawke’s annoyance fades and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you have something in mind, Fenris? Something that will take a day or two? Because I should tell you, I am absolutely up for that. Just remember, I can’t recover quite as quickly as an elf.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Fenris says drily, stripping him of his shirt. He leads Hawke over to the bed and pushes him face down.

“Oooh, Fenris, what are you planning?” Hawke smirks at Fenris over his shoulder. He appears to have forgotten all about mages and templars both. Good.

Fenris climbs onto the bed, straddling Hawke’s hips. He puts his hands to Hawke’s shoulders, and Fenris sees him grin, about to make another lewd comment; but then Fenris starts to massage those tight muscles and whatever Hawke was about to say turns into a deep groan that makes Fenris bite his lip. Hawke makes better noises while getting a massage than he does during sex.

Well - that can come later. In fact, they both will.


	9. Winter

The first snowball was thrown without thinking; it didn’t snow often in Kirkwall, not like it did in Lothering, and the sight of it carpeting the ground filled Hawke with delight.

Before he’d even had chance to think about what he was doing he’d bent down, scooped up a handful of snow and launched it at Fenris’s back.

Fenris yelped as it exploded and smattered his neck with cold wetness, and Hawke had winced - Fenris hated the cold with a passion, even if he did still refuse to wear shoes; but then Fenris turned with a wicked smile and gave a deep chuckle: “Oh Hawke, you’re going to regret that,” he said, and bent down for a snowball of his own.

Hawke lost the snowball fight - horribly, Fenris had no mercy - but considering that meant that they spent the rest of the afternoon under a blanket in front of the fire, drinking spiced tea and cuddling, Hawke can’t say that he much minds losing.


	10. I'd love to see something where Fenris is super sweet and tender with Hawke?

They’re sitting in front of the fire in Fenris’s mansion - the night is chilly and Fenris gets cold easily; Hawke is reading through the fat bundle of letters that arrived for him that afternoon, Fenris is working his way through The Seer’s Yarn.

Neither of them speaks; Hawke just likes being in Fenris’s company, his warm body pressed against his own; every so often Fenris will look up from his book and smile at Hawke, a smile full of sweetness that only Hawke is allowed to see.

He smiles at him now, then ghosts his fingers over Hawke’s hair, down his cheek, over his lips; gives a kiss as sweet as the smile, then shifts so that he’s lying with his head in Hawke’s lap and returns to his reading; Hawke smiles embarrassingly wide at how comfortable Fenris is with him; it’s taken a while to get here but it was worth every minute.


	11. First time they kiss in front of the others

Hawke doesn’t even think about it; he just leans in and kisses Fenris on the lips.

Everyone’s in Varric’s suite at the Hanged Man. Hawke is losing both Wicked Grace and coin at a frightening rate, but he’s pleasantly drunk, and he’s with his friends – he’s with Fenris, and he can’t be anything but happy when he’s in such good company.

Hawke breaks the kiss quickly, realising what he’s done and not sure that Fenris will appreciate such affection in public. But Isabela has already started a round of applause, yelling Finally! with conviction and everyone joins in, apart from Anders.

Oh Maker, save me, Hawke thinks, but then Fenris grabs Hawke’s shirt and pulls him closes, kisses him, really kisses him, and Hawke is breathless when Fenris lets him go with a smirk.

“If you’re going to do it, do it properly,” he says.

“Here, here!” Isabela cries, running over to them and putting a hand to their backs, pushing them close again. They’re both laughing too hard to kiss properly, but they have their arms around each other, and their friends are cheering them on, genuinely delighted that they’re finally together again.

Hawke’s life might be far from idyllic, but in this moment, surrounded by friends and the man he loves, it sort of feels like it is.


	12. Dog helping Hawke and Fenris have some time alone and warding off unexpected visitors

“And then Cullen said-”

Hawke likes Anders, he really does. He considers him one of his very best friends. And he likes listening to him rant about mage rights. They’ve gotten into some spirited discussions about it; having an apostate father and sister means that Hawke has a lot of feelings on the matter.

However.

There is a time and a place for such things (a concept Anders has never quite been able to grasp), and this is neither.

“Honestly, does he really think that-”

Fenris is glaring at him. Even more than usual, which is saying something. Because not only is he talking about mages, he’s also interrupting them.

Before Anders arrived they were – busy. Fenris had Hawke pinned down on the sofa, was kissing his lips, his neck, his chest. Hawke was very interested in seeing what else Fenris was planning.

And then Anders arrived.

To be fair, Bodahn had tried to stop him. His “Ah, Master Anders, Serah Hawke is busy-”

It hadn’t stopped him, but it had given Fenris enough time to sit up, cursing in Tevene, and for Hawke to pull his robe closed.

Anders is still talking, and Fenris clenches his fists. Hawke rubs his eyes.

And then there’s the sound of running paws, an excited bark, and the soft whump of the best dog in Thedas running full tilt into Anders. Anders staggers back with a horrified expression, and Dog runs around him in circles.

“Hawke, your dog – call him off.”

“He only wants to play, Anders.”

Fenris smirks as Dog licks Anders’s cheek, and Anders gives a disgusted noise.

“I – you know what? Why don’t you come down to the clinic tomorrow,” Anders says, trying – and failing – to push Dog off him. “We can talk about it then. I – need to go”

“Excellent idea,” Hawke says, and moves to take Dog’s collar and pull him away. “Good night, Anders.”

Anders walks away quickly – he really hates dogs – and Hawke scratches Dog’s head.

“Who’s a good pup, hmm? You’re a good pup!”

“I do hope that we didn’t get rid of the mage, just for you to get distracted with the dog,” Fenris says, and when Hawke looks over he’s removed his tunic, his lyrium markings shining in the firelight. He stares for a moment, having forgotten about Dog, about Anders, about everything in the world other than Fenris.

“Go play with Sandal,” Hawke says, not looking away from Fenris, and Dog barks happily, running out of the room. Hawke closes the door behind him, and locks it. He watches as Fenris removes his leggings, too, and then stands in front of the hearth, naked and gorgeous.

“Undress,” Fenris commands, and points at the sofa. “On your back.”

Hawke can’t move fast enough.


	13. Fenris has cold hands

Here is a thing that Hawke did not know: elves have a lower body temperature than humans.

Fenris has especially cold hands and feet, which Hawke found out one winter’s day after returning from the Wounded Coast - once his gauntlets were off, Fenris had touched his cheek, with a smile and affection in his eyes; Hawke had yelped loudly, and had Fenris laughed, and said I’ll remember that.

And he does: feet against Hawke’s leg when they’re under the covers, icy fingers on Hawke’s bare back - sometimes teasing, sometimes shiveringly pleasant, but Hawke’s reaction always makes Fenris smile, and that’s worth most anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from "[Lizenzkreuz](http://lizenzkreuz.tumblr.com/): Hmhmhm!! For the prompt thing!! Fenris is a person who suffers from cold hands and feet and likes to use it against Hawke?! B)


	14. Fenris undressing completely and revealing himself to Hawke for the first time

Seeing Fenris naked for the first time is a fond and oft-visited memory for Hawke, but he doesn’t remember who undressed who - they were so hungry for each other that clothes were cast carelessly aside, both of them more interested in kissing and touching than looking.

The second time, it’s all about looking: Fenris pushes Hawke down onto his bed, but stays on his feet, smiling, stripping armour first; then undoing the ties at the front of his tunic, one by one, until he can shrug it off and let it drop to the floor.

He moves slowly, teasing, with heated glances and bitten lips; there’s a rhythm to it, a swing of hips, a turn to reveal his back, a bend to slide off his leggings - no underclothes, just long, long legs and shining markings and the most beautiful man Hawke has ever seen.


	15. Hawke teaching Fenris to read using a saucy book

“And then the Knight-Captain lowered her lips, and-”

“Licked,” Hawke offers with a glance at the next word, and Fenris glares at him. 

“I can read it, I’m just questioning your choice of reading materials.”

“But this is one of Varric’s!” Hawke says. “There’s none finer.”

“Mmmhmm. And this particular tale of Varric’s?” Hawke glances down at the cover. The Knight-Captain has a most - voluptuous figure. He considers his answer carefully. There’s the actual reason he brought it - hoping that Fenris might get the message and they might recreate some of the scenes. He’s not about to say that, though. 

Instead, he says, “It’ll help improve your vocabulary. There are lots of words in this one that you’ve not read before.”

Fenris stares at him and then starts to laugh. Hard. He covers his face with his hands, his back shaking; Hawke grins and starts to laugh too. 

“Well, you’re not-” Fenris breaks off, giggling, and it’s the most adorable sound Hawke’s heard in his life. Fenris clears his throat, and loses a fight against a smile. “You’re not wrong, Hawke. And some of these euphemisms. I can read them but I have no idea what they’re talking about.”

Hawke looks too, and he has no idea either. Even for Varric, this is - it’s terrible. In a wonderful way. 

“Go on, then,” Hawke says. “Keep reading.”

“I am not reading this aloud. You read it.” There’s a challenge in Fenris’s voice, and a smile on his lips, and Hawke can’t deny either of those things. 

“Alright, then.” He takes the book for him, and finds where Fenris had gotten up to. Oh Maker, he thinks as he skims over the next few paragraphs, but he won’t back down from the challenge. 

“And then the Knight-Captain lowered her lips, and licked her guardsman’s velvet truncheon-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: So. Since the whole teaching fenris to read thing happened in act2, which also means its possible for hawke and fenris to be still stuck at the mutual crush stage... hawke ends up using a book with racy content to try to advance their relationship. (maker forgive me for sinning but book!play is something i have in my mind very long now. oops.)


	16. Fenris the blanket stealer

Hawke is shivering when he wakes; it takes his sleepy mind a moment to work out why: in the dim orange light of a single night candle, he sees Fenris curled up on his side, all of the blankets wrapped around him; he’s facing away from Hawke, and only the white of his hair is visible.

Shivering, Hawke reaches over, tugs at an edge of the blanket carefully, trying to do it without waking Fenris - it’s useless, though, Fenris is well wrapped up in them and he’s always been a light sleeper. He wakes almost instantly.

“What is it?” He asks, sounding more awake than Hawke feels. He turns to see Hawke naked, shivering and blanketless, and his eyes widen as he extricates himself from the blankets. “I’m so sorry, Hawke, here,” he says, and Hawke sighs gratefully as the blankets, still warm from Fenris’s body heat, go over him. Fenris rubs his arms, too, to help warm him, and suddenly sleep is the last thing on Hawke’s mind. 

“As long we’re both awake, perhaps you can help warm me up,” Hawke says. 

Fenris laughs; “Since it’s my fault that you’re cold, I rather think it’s my duty,” he chuckles, and moves closer, tangling their legs together and bringing their lips together in a kiss.


	17. Hawke likes cuddles

“Is this about me giving Isabela a hug, earlier? Surely you know it didn’t mean anything,” Hawke asks, looking uncertain and confused - Fenris winces; it’s not often that his insecurity gets the better of him, and he’d hoped it wasn’t so obvious.

He looks at Hawke, at his frown, and tries to explain: “I trust you,” Fenris says quietly. “But sometimes I wonder why you waited for me all those years.”

“Because you’re worth waiting for,” Hawke says, with a warm smile, the kind of smile that prompts one in return. The kind of smile that warms Fenris right to his core, chasing away his insecurities, his fears, his lingering past. Hawke ghosts his fingers over Fenris’s hair, and then takes his hand, pulling him backwards towards the sofa. Sitting, he pulls Fenris onto his lap, kissing up his neck, along the line of his jaw, making him shiver, making him smile.

Isabela doesn’t get this. Not Merrill, or Anders, or anyone else. No one gets this but him. 

And the whispered words in his ear? Those are just for him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: Hawke is a very cuddly person, and often can be seen in the hanged man with isabela or merrill leaning on him or sitting on his lap. Fenris gets a little jealous, but hawke gives the best apology cuddles.


	18. Bathing

There are few things that Fenris likes about Orlais, and a great many things he dislikes.

From the ostentation to the arrogance; from the way the elves are treated, to the way they look at him, their eyes bright and hopeful, too close to awe for his liking. Fenris doesn’t want that kind of responsibility; he never has.

And yet here I am, he thinks, following Hawke and some simpering Orlesian fellow in a golden mask - Fenris wasn’t listening when he gave his name - into what will be their room for the next few days.

As they enter, Fenris’s eyebrows raise. It’s huge, multi-roomed, with a balcony overlooking a grand courtyard. The furniture is overstuffed and unnecessarily fine, too much gold leaf, too much of everything. But there are shelves full of books, and through an open door there Fenris glimpses a bath - something that will be most welcome after their long journey.

“We are so very glad to have you here, Champion,” the Orlesian says with an oily smile, preening at Hawke. “Anything you need is yours - just ring the bell and one of the servants will be with you in moments.”

“Thank you,” Hawke says as he sets his bag down on the floor. “But the invitation was addressed to Fenris; I’m just his plus one.”

The Orlesian purses his lips, gazing at Fenris before nodding sharply. “Of course,” he says, his voice artificially bright. “I’m certain we’re very happy to have both of you here.” He doesn’t sound glad that Fenris is here; they have that in common, then.

The man gives another bow complete with ridiculous flourishes, then with a sweep of his cloth-of-gold cape he is gone.

“Orlesians,” Hawke grumbles, pulling off his own cape and throwing it onto a velvet chair. “Just so you know, I’m dressing and acting in the most Fereldan way I can until we leave.”

“But you didn’t bring the dog,” Fenris says, and Hawke grins at him.

Fenris goes to the bathroom and is pleased to see that it’s as fancy as the rest of the room; turning the tap brings forth a stream of wonderfully hot water, and the bottles next to it are full of scented oils that he pours generously into the water.

“I like the way you think,” Hawke says as he comes over. He’s half-naked now, and Fenris’s eyes linger on his chest, his arms - he’s very distracting. Before he even realises he’s doing it, his finger is tracing down Hawke’s sternum.

Snatching his hand away, Fenris goes back into the living room to grab a bottle of wine from the table that’s been laid out for them, along with two glasses, before returning to the bathroom and stripping.

When his last piece of clothing is on the tiled floor, he looks up to see Hawke grinning at him.

“Wine and naked Fenris? It must be my lucky day.”

“It must indeed. I might even let you give me a massage later.”

“Gladly, love,” Hawke says, and steals a kiss before getting into the bath. Fenris smiles, feeling fond and warm. Maybe Orlais won’t be completely awful. Not with Hawke by his side.


	19. Love at first sight

Their eyes meet across a crowded room

It’s a party, one of Varric’s, celebrating the release of his latest novel. Mostly the guests are in writing or publishing; Hawke isn’t but he’s Varric’s best friend, and more to the point he’ll never say no to a free meal.

It’s when he’s just gone back to the buffet table for his third plate of canapés that he looks up, and sees him through a gap in the crowd.

And when he does, he feels the world change.

Nothing happens, but everything does. Suddenly, Hawke doesn’t care about the food, he doesn’t care about the free drinks, or about the sexy Scottish redhead he was chatting up earlier. His focus narrows in on the stranger and everything else blurs, unimportant.

Putting down the plate, Hawke weaves through the crowd; as he’s making his way there, the man doesn’t take his eyes off him. Hawke wonders if he has ever felt anything like this; Hawke certainly hasn’t. The racing heartbeat, the shortness of breath, the connection; the absolute certainty that they should know each other. That they already do, even though they’ve never met.

“Hello,” Hawke says, and the man looks at him still. He has green eyes, Hawke sees, looking up at Hawke through a fringe of white hair. There are tattoos, coiled around his arms, up his neck, over the curve of his chin. He’s so beautiful that it hurts to look at him, but it’s a pain Hawke will gladly bear.

“Hello,” the stranger says, and they standing there, looking at each other, like Hawke’s never looked at anyone before.

Hawke’s mother has told him, smiling and dreamy, of the night she met his father; of instantly, irrevocably falling in love with him. Hawke’s never quite believed that; never quite believed in love, for that matter.

But now he does.

“I’m Hawke,” he says, and the stranger who isn’t a stranger at all smiles back.

“I’m Fenris,” he says, and Hawke nods.

“I’m very, very pleased to meet you, Fenris.”

With a very small smile, Fenris nods, his eyes still on Hawke. “The feeling is mutual.”

As they gaze at each other, Hawke thinks of his parents, of how their world was shaken to its bedrock the night they met, how the mere sight of each other changed everything they were, everything they’d hoped to be.

He knows exactly how they felt.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” Fenris says quickly, and Hawke knows he feels it too.

Sharing a smile, they make their way to a table, to talk and get to know the person they’ll spend the rest of their life with.


	20. Getting warm and dry after a whole day in the snow

“Have I mentioned how much I dislike snow?” Fenris asks as they step into Skyhold after a very long week of travelling from Redcliffe.

As they pass through the gates, the guards are wary rather than suspicious - it is far from the first time the two of them have been here, and the Inquisitor himself requested their visit.

There are more people here than last time; most Hawke doesn’t recognise, a few he does. A dwarf with her arms full of swords smiles at him; a healer lounging against a wall, thankful for having nothing to do, gives him a wave.

“I seem to recall you mentioning it once or twice, yes,” Hawke says, and takes Fenris’s hand, squeezing it. “Along with how much you hate wearing boots.”

“Good. Because I do. I also dislike heavy packs and broken wagons, and I definitely dislike politicking-”

“But you love wine, warm fires, and cosy beds,” Hawke says. “And me.”

Fenris raises his eyebrows slightly as they walk up to the upper courtyard. “Are you promising me that if I just put up with the things I hate for the next few hours I’ll get those?”

“No,” Hawke stays as they get to the top of the steps, and pulls Fenris aside to kiss his forehead. “I’m saying that I sent a message to Josephine asking her to prepare our usual room with all the things you love. Also to give our apologies to the Inquisitor, but we’ll be a few hours later than planned.”

Fenris’s eyebrows raise and he gives a hmph that Hawke knows means he secretly approves. He keeps his hand in Hawke’s and lets him lead the way to their room.

When he opens the door, Hawke makes a mental note to thank Josephine profusely.

The grand bed is covered in dark sheets that Hawke is sure will be deliciously soft under bare skin. The roaring fire in the hearth makes the room toasty, and a large bath sits in the middle of the room, the water still steaming. On its surface float petals from wild Antivan roses, one of the only flowers Fenris isn’t allergic to, and by its side on a low table is a bottle of wine and two cups. More of the roses are in vases around the room, and there are more bottles of wine.

It’s perfect.

On the bedside table Hawke spies a note. After dropping his packs near the wall, he picks it up, and aloud, reads,

“Champion, Serah Fenris, it’s a pleasure to welcome you back to Skyhold. I hope these accommodations are to your satisfaction. It has been brought to my attention that the nearest thing you had to a honeymoon was your trip to Weisshaupt, and that just won’t do. I’ve explained things to the Inquisitor and he quite agrees – Lord Lavellan won’t be expecting you until the fourth day. In the meantime, relax, get warm, and enjoy yourselves. Servants will be happy to deliver your meals and anything else you might need; only ask. Yours, Josephine.”

They pause, letting the words sink in. Three days off. Together. In this suite that has been expertly put together for them, and is practically dripping with romance.

“A good woman, Ambassador Montilyet,” Fenris says after a moment.

“Indeed,” agrees Hawke, and grins. “A honeymoon, eh?”

“A bath first,” Fenris says, slowly stripping his many layers. “Other things later, if you’re lucky.”

“I’m very lucky, Fenris; after all, you agreed to marry me.”

“So I did,” Fenris says, and then, wearing only leggings, walks over to Hawke and pulls him down for a kiss, not quite sweet but not quite sordid; more a promise. “Clothes off. You won’t be needing them for a while.”

“Oh?”

Fenris chuckles, low and deep; it makes Hawke shiver. “It is our honeymoon.”

Hawke was right: he is a very, very lucky man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [sortahawkward](http://sortahawkward.tumblr.com/): Getting warm and dry after a whole day in the snow.


	21. Photographer Hawke

The best thing about having a model for a boyfriend is how damn good he looks on film.

Actually, there are a lot of things Hawke loves about Fenris that have nothing to do with looks, and Hawke is using a digital camera, but still.

Fenris is in bed by Hawke’s side, awake but barely and not happy about it.

“But it’s so early,” he groans. 

“It’s the golden hour, Fenris,” Hawke says, snapping a picture, then another. Fenris opens one eye, which is stunningly green in the early morning sunlight.

He shifts, propping himself up on his elbows. The sheets have slipped down to his waist, revealing his bare chest and stomach, his skin covered in pale, looping tattoos. His hair is adorably, stylishly messy, and his expression is adorably, stylishly grumpy.

“And what exactly,” he asks, “Are you planning on doing with these pictures of me sleeping?”

“You’re not sleeping.”

“Half-asleep, then.”

“Look at them all the time and think how much I love you,” Hawke says, taking anther half a dozen pictures and smiling when he gets a perfect shot of the blush staining Fenris’s cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Well,” Fenris says, and clears his throat. “I suppose that’s alright then.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hawke says, then yelps when Fenris grabs his camera. “What are you doing?”

Hawke winces as Fenris messes with the settings. “Can’t I have some pictures of you for the same reason?”

Hawke stares at him. Fenris hasn’t said those specific words; maybe he never will. It doesn’t matter because Hawke knows, but that just there was almost saying them. It was nice.

“You can take as many as you like,” Hawke says, and then yelps again when Fenris reaches for the waistband of his plaid boxers.

“I want some tasteful nudes,” Fenris says, standing to get a better angle.

“Obviously they’ll be tasteful, they’re of me,” Hawke says, and wriggles out of his boxers to lounge on his side, Burt Reynolds-style. Fenris laughs then, one of Hawke’s favourite sounds in the whole world, especially when it sounds so fond.

“Very tasteful,” Fenris says with a smirk, and starts snapping.

The impromptu photo session doesn’t last long since Hawke’s manly sexiness is clearly too much for Fenris to resist, but considering that kissing and touchingthat comes after is far more fun, neither of them really mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: photographer!hawke and muse!fenris, bonus for hawke taking pictures of fenris early in the morning, just after waking up when he's all sleepy and has a bad case of bed hair.


	22. Modern AU: Halloween costume party

Fenris had been unsure of this from the start - Halloween parties aren’t exactly his thing, especially not dressing up in garish costumes. But Hawke had asked him to go to Isabela’s party for their second date, and Fenris… 

Fenris’s heart beats a little faster whenever he looks at Hawke. He feels hope when he looks at him, feels a quiet shiver of possibility and promise. He also feels fear - not of Hawke, never Hawke. 

No, the fears are much more personal and much more insidious. He feels that he’s lying to himself - that he can never have anything with anyone. Nothing lasting, anyway, and definitely not with anyone as good as Hawke. Fenris doesn’t deserve him; Hawke wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he knew the whole truth about Danarius. 

That fear rises up now, spitting and snarling, ferocious enough that Fenris’s hand pauses where it rests on the front door handle. His chest grows tight as a storm of doubts batters against his cobbled-together defences. Jaw clenching, he refuses to listen to the words but the bitter thorns tangling inside him are harder to deny. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out, wondering if he should just text Hawke and make an excuse. 

But the text, he sees is from Hawke. A picture of him in a puppy onesie, grinning into the camera. The text reads, Can’t wait to see you *insert joke abt puppy love here* xxx 

It makes Fenris smile, and that instantly smashes almost all the doubts, banishing the rest to the furthest corner of his mind. 

He steps outside and heads to the party, still smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: fenhawke au. It's early in their relationship. They go to a Halloween costume party.


	23. Fenris walking Hawke's dog

“Fenris,” Hawke says, near to speechless: after a long week of fighting Tal-Vashoth, he’s back in Kirkwall, in this cantankerous city that Hawke loves, that Hawke suspects will send him to an early grave; already exhausted, after the long uphill climb to Hightown he’s almost asleep on his feet – and maybe he is, because the sight of Fenris walking Hawke’s dog is definitely the stuff of dreams.

It wouldn’t be so strange, perhaps, apart from the fact that they haven’t spoken for months, not since – since he left me, Hawke makes himself finish the thought, however much it hurts; they’ve barely even seen each other, apart from in passing – awkward, brief, wistful meetings – and seeing him now aches, for all kinds of reasons; makes him want, all kinds of things.

“I knew you would be gone awhile,” Fenris says, looking at the dog instead of looking at Hawke, “I knew you would want him looked after,” and of course he’s right; Hawke gave Bodahn very strict instructions on daily walks, and it seems Fenris decided to help; Hawke isn’t sure what that means – it might mean nothing at all – but Hawke can’t help the smile tugging at his lips; when Fenris glances up and smiles back, a small smile but a real one, hope kindles in Hawke like a sunrise.


	24. AU where Fenris is a really famous model

Fenris is gorgeous.

Of course he is. Anyone can see that. The long legs, the waist, the arse, the eyes and the lips and the everything.

And then there’s the voice, and his sense of humour, and how devastatingly smart he is, and-

Wait, what was Hawke’s point again?

Ah, yes.

Fenris is gorgeous but Hawke is slightly taken aback by Bethany’s reaction to meeting Fenris. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide; she even made some vague but excitable gesture with her hand. It was kind of similar to Hawke’s reaction to seeing Fenris, but that’s to be expected. He’s the awkward one.

So what’s going on with Bethany?

When Fenris excuses himself to take a phone call, Hawke pounces on the chance to find out.

“Okay, Beth-”

“Oh my god, Garrett!” She bounces across the room and sinks onto the sofa beside him, grabbing his forearm - tightly, too, Bethy is stronger than she looks.

“Overreacting a bit there, Bethany?”

“Are you kidding? It’s not every day your brother brings home his supermodel boyfriend!”

Hawke raises an eyebrow. “I know he’s good-looking, but-”

She rolls her eyes, and her hand tightens a little bit. Hawke definitely doesn’t squeak in pain.

“No, I mean an actual supermodel. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“…what?”

Bethany reaches under her coffee table and grabs the pile of magazines that lives there.

And there, on the inside cover of Vogue, is Fenris.

Hawke swears, very loudly.

He takes the magazine from her so that he can look more closely, but honestly, there’s no need. There’s no denying that’s Fenris. Pale hair, brown skin, tattoos everywhere. Hawke’s slightly insulted that other people have seen his boyfriend like this, half-dressed and incredibly sultry, that look - Hawke knows that look very well. He also has a sudden urge to buy something from Versace.

“Not just that one,” Bethany says, flicking through another magazine and finding an ad for Rolex, with Fenris wearing a suit, and a watch that costs more than Hawke’s car.

“Oh my god,” Hawke says, and Bethany nods.

“Right?!”

Which is when, with both of the Hawke siblings drooling over his ads, Fenris walks back into the room.

He glances at the magazine and from the change in his expression - slight, but Hawke knows him well enough to see it - he recognises the photos, even upside down.

“I see you’ve found out my secret.”

“Not really a secret when you’re in national magazines,” Hawke says, and yelps when Bethany pinches him. “You look amazing, Fenris. In the pictures I mean. And now. But also in the pictures.”

Fenris puts his phone in his pocket and stays where he is, his jaw tight. “I didn’t want you to know. I wanted you to like me for me.”

Hawke stares at him, confused. “But I do like you for you. Knowing what your job is isn’t going to change that.” He stands, putting the magazines on the sofa and going over to Fenris. He takes both of his hands and stands close to him, their bodies not quite touching. “Why would you think it would?”

“Because when people know I’m a model, they assume I must be shallow, or unintelligent. Or they start to treat me differently because I have money, or-”

“Fenris. I don’t care about money. And unintelligent? You speak five languages. You’re whip-sharp. You’re just so clever. You’re definitely smarter than me.”

“Obviously,” Fenris says, with a small smirk, and he leans forward ever so slightly so that their foreheads are touching. “It was – after Danarius,” Fenris says, and as happens whenever Hawke hears Danarius’s name, he feels a moment of red anger. “I had no money, I’d barely eaten anything for days, and a talent scout spotted me and offered me a job.” Fenris shrugs. “I couldn’t say no.”

“And you went from that to modelling for Rolex? That’s amazing, Fenris.”

“It… It is what it is.”

“You’re amazing, Fenris,” Hawke says, meaning it as much as he’s ever meant anything, and it’s nothing to do with the modelling. He’s pleased when it makes Fenris smile, and blush.

“You think you’re charming, don’t you?”

“I know I am,” Hawke says, and kisses him, then kisses him again, and again, until Bethany says Garrett! and reminds him of her existence, and more to the point her presence in this room.

He turns to her with a grin, and she rolls her eyes, but he thinks he sees a smile too.

She’s happy because he’s happy. Possibly also because she can get an apparently famous model’s autograph. But mostly, Hawke would wager, because of the happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: au where Fenris is a really famous model who Hawke ends up dating and he doesn't find out until he finally introduces him to his family and hawke's freaking out and then bethany shows him the sheer amount of magazines fenris is on the cover of


	25. Hawke snores

Hawke has always meant warmth to Fenris: the warm smiles the moment they met; the befuddling warmth that crept up on Fenris whenever he saw Hawke, threatening to overcome him mere months from their first meeting; the scalding desperate heat when they jumped into bed together, three years on but far too soon.

Even after that, Hawke was warm: smiling still, accepting Fenris back into his circle of friends without a second thought; it lingered in Fenris, too, a sunlit kind of warmth that flowed golden through every part of him, easing the jagged bitterness that he had always thought were bedrock parts of him, shocked to find they were wounds that could heal.

Now in bed - their bed - Hawke is spooned against him, snoring against his shoulder; after all these years, Hawke still means warmth to him - the comforting warmth of his body, yes, and the breathless aching burning heat when they fuck, but mostly it’s a bone-deep, right kind of warmth that’s a constant presence; against all the long, long odds, he has his happy ever after; he has Hawke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [Miss Evening:](http://miss-evening.tumblr.com/) For the three sentence fenhawke fic, a funny and cute prompt would be Fenris waking up in the middle of the night by Hawke's snoring, laying on the side with one big arm wrapped around him, his body heat turning the blanket they share into an awfully hot radiator. Fenris may feel a tad bit grumpy about this, but too tired make any effort doing something about it. XD


	26. Hawke's thoughts on Fenris's markings

Hawke’s first thought was that Fenris’s markings were beautiful, much like the elf who bore them.

When he found out that they were forced on him, that their creation caused him such agony - that they hurt him still - they horrified Hawke; sometimes he found himself wanting to kiss them, as though he could kiss the pain away, dissolve the memories.

Now that Fenris is in Hawke’s bed, naked, reading, he thinks once more that the markings are beautiful - he kisses them, very gently, and whispers I love every part of you; Fenris puts his book down and kisses Hawke’s lips, says, And I you; as Hawke kisses back, wraps his arms around Fenris’s waist, he thinks that while he can’t dissolve the old memories, he can give him new ones, good ones.


	27. Proposal fic

Post-sex Fenris is adorable. He’s always adorable, in his angry, scowling way, but right now he’s smiling and relaxed and happy, and Hawke loves him so damned much.

Hawke is on his back and Fenris is curled up against him, running his fingers through Hawke’s chest hair. It’s a sweet, intimate moment, and it makes Hawke smile. Then again, he’s been smiling a lot lately.

This is the first time they’ve been anywhere near settled since leaving Kirkwall. They’re in Antiva City, which is - interesting - but it’s a good place to get lost in. They’ve been here just over a month, and Fenris is already conversational in Antivan. Hawke can barely order a beer.

But they have a small apartment near the alienage, above a bakers, and the smell of baking bread is nearly enough to overcome the scent of Antivan leather from the tannery across the street. It’s nothing compared to his estate, or Fenris’s mansion, but it’s home, because both of them are here.

Hawke leans in to kiss Fenris on the tip of his nose. “You’re sure you’re alright with Bethany visiting next month?”

“Of course. I love Bethany.”

Hawke pulls back and squawks, putting a dramatic hand to his chest, even as he delights in the fact that a blissed-out Fenris would say something like that. “What about me? Am I being betrayed?!”

Fenris rolls his eyes. “I love her like a sister, Hawke. No need for histrionics.”

“And how do you love me?”

Fenris shrugs, cuddling a little closer and resting his head on Hawke’s chest. “Like a husband.”

Hawke goes very still, and then slowly lifts a hand to Fenris’s head, stroking his soft hair. He can feel his heartbeat racing and wonders if Fenris can hear it.

Like a husband.

Him, as Fenris’s husband. Fenris, as his. That sounds - nice. That sounds right.

“We-” Hawke coughs. “We could do something about that. Make it official.”

“What do you mean?” Fenris asks, his words blurred slightly by tiredness.

“You could be my husband. We could get married.”

Fenris blinks at him, then his eyebrows raise. His mouth works wordlessly for a moment. “Us?” He manages.

“Us,” agrees Hawke, and is more certain then than ever before that he wants this.

“Is that even possible? I mean - who would marry us?”

“I’m fairly sure Varric could find someone to do it.”

Another few moments pass in silence. Fenris is looking thoughtful. “And we would be equals,” Fenris says, and while Hawke doesn’t quite know where Fenris’s thoughts took him, he can guess at the direction.

“We’re always equals.” A simple answer, but Hawke thinks it’s probably the best one.

“My husband,” Fenris says, trying the word out, and nothing has ever sounded better to Hawke’s ears.

“Your husband,” he says, and hears his voice, gone deep and rough.

Fenris smiles, kisses him, smiles again. “Yes, Hawke. I will marry you.”


	28. Fenris all heartbroken after he leaves Hawke

The way Hawke says his name is like nothing he’s ever heard.

A little more than a whisper, a little less than a prayer - but more, too: alongside the reverence is longing and lust and desperate wistfulness, and Fenris wants to go to him, he wants to breathe sorry I’m sorry forgive me into his skin, wants to share his air and share his body and bare his soul.

He wants but he’s a coward, he can face a dragon without flinching, but Hawke, oh Hawke; Hawke terrifies him beyond reason, Hawke offers love and Fenris fears that beyond almost any foe; but he wants it, yearns for it like a flower turning towards the sun, and one day – he hopes, he prays – he will find the courage to let himself have it.


	29. Something about Fenris and Hawke feel after getting back together

After they kissed for the first time in three years, they barely left each other’s side for a week.

Perhaps that was a mistake, for it set a precedent. Fenris became so used to drowning in Hawke - his scent, his strength, his gaze - that being without him for four days is agony.

He keeps himself busy - going to the market, running small mercenary jobs, reading - but whenever his mind has a spare moment, his thoughts drift back to Hawke like a compass pointing north.

“Pathetic,” Fenris snarls at himself as he stalks back to the Hightown estates, startling a young woman in Orlesian silks. He pauses, halfway between his mansion and Hawke’s, and before he can think better of it heads to Hawke’s estate.

It’s a nice day and the pavement is pleasantly warm beneath his feet. He gets his fair share of glances, but he’s used to that by now. Being an elf from Tevinter would be enough, but there’s his markings, his armour, his sword - all are things to be stared at. And now there are the rumours about him and Hawke - rumours he’s hardly helping extinguish by going to the estate. 

Let them talk. Fenris isn’t about to give Hawke up just to fend off the gossip of some bored dock workers. 

He raps on Hawke’s door. It’s opened by Bodahn, whose eyes widen just for a moment. Fenris has no doubt whatsoever that the dwarf knows exactly what he and Hawke were doing the week before. Hawke is not a quiet lover, Fenris thinks, and the corner of his mouth is tugged upwards by a smile. Bodahn quickly recovers his manners and bows his head in greeting.

“Master Fenris, welcome. Serah Hawke is just in the living room.”

Fenris nods; being called Master Fenris both annoys him and amuses him. Through the doorway he can see Hawke, and the pent up desire from the past four days slams into him all at once. Stalking past Bodahn, he goes straight to Hawke, who turns to greet him. Before he can speak, Fenris grabs his wrist. “Bedroom. Now.”

Hawke blinks, and then smiles, desire to match Fenris’s own flashing in his eyes. “Now,” he agrees, and leads the way.


	30. Something dealing with their trauma

Hawke and Fenris are drinking.

It’s the second anniversary of the Battle of Ostagar. The Hanged Man is busier than usual, full of Fereldans. A few who survived Ostagar, and a lot who lost loved ones to the battle. There’s a thick and heavy kind of quiet in the air, everyone’s heads full of thoughts they avoid for the rest of the year.

Hawke and Fenris sit alone at a table in the corner, out of the way and half-hidden. They’re close enough that Hawke can feel Fenris’s warmth - their thighs kissing, their arms brushing - and Hawke can see Fenris’s heartbeat at his throat.

His first choice of drinking companion had been Aveline, but she shook her head, wanting to be alone with her thoughts. Understandable, since he lost Wesley not long after. Hawke lost Carver, too, but he’s not ready to think about that, not yet. One traumatic experience at a time. And seeing friends and strangers alike ripped apart by darkspawn, on a field covered in blood and body parts? He’s pretty sure that counts as trauma.

Hawke didn’t want to drink alone, so when Aveline turned Hawke down, he asked Fenris. A strange choice, to ask a Tevinter who has nothing to do with this date, but it felt right.

Perhaps it’s that Fenris is a man intimately familiar with trauma; perhaps it’s that his quiet companionship is just what Hawke needs. Or perhaps it’s that Hawke always wants to see Fenris, and he’s got a terrible sense of what is an appropriate occasion to spend time with the man he wants to sleep with.

But his presence calms Hawke. It always does. The anxiety that’s been building these past few days, the memories that slip into his mind like a sneak attack and the accompanying fear that leaves him breathless - it all fades into the background. When he looks at Fenris, who wasn’t at Ostagar but who has been fighting all his life, he sees a fellow warrior. An equal who understands.

Fenris’s gaze lifts, meets Hawke’s, holds it. It makes Hawke feel warm and safe; pulls him out of the past and gives him hope for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: Three sentences: Something dealing with their trauma. Bc they've both been through so much, yanno? Sorry I don't got anything more than this, I'd just like to see something H/c I guess.


	31. When Hawke first realizes he is in love w Fenris

It’s not a special moment - they’ve finally defeated a dragon and Hawke looks around at his friends, flooded with relief to see that they’re all hale and whole; there are dragon hoards scattered across the plateau, piles of gold and gems that are theirs for the taking, but Hawke’s eyes are drawn to Fenris.

He stands a few feet away, still breathing hard from the battle; blood is splashed across his cheek, in his hair - Hawke wonders idly if it’ll stain pink when he washes it out; his eyes are so green in the sunlight, and Maker, he looks so beautiful that it makes Hawke’s heart hurt.

He’s struck breathless by a need to touch Fenris’s skin, to kiss his markings - to hold him tight and keep him safe, and Hawke wants to protect everyone, yes, but this intensity is just for Fenris; and as those green eyes meet his, Hawke’s heart races faster, and he thinks, oh, oh, and he smiles as wonder blooms in his chest.


	32. Hawke's thoughts on Fenris' ass

They met Fenris a week ago, and Hawke would be lying if he said he wasn’t instantly attracted to him. That hair, the eyes, the lips. Those long legs, in those tight leggings. He looks – great. Really great.

Right now they’re all at Gamlen’s house – more to annoy Gamlen than for any other reason – and Fenris is petting Sam, Hawke’s mabari. Sam is overjoyed by the attention, and Fenris’s serious expression as he strokes a hand down Sam’s back is a delight.

Sam barks and rolls onto his back, looking plaintively up at Fenris, who he has wrapped around his paw. As Fenris bends to scratch Sam’s belly, his tunic rides up a little, giving Hawke his first glimpse of Fenris’s arse, and it is divine. Hawke stares, subtly admiring.

“Maker’s breath, Hawke,” Aveline mutters, shaking her head, which suggests Hawke wasn’t quite as subtle as he thought.

Still though, look at him. Fenris is glorious.

But then he straightens, and turns to them. Hawke’s gaze darts away, and he does his best impression of someone that definitely was not ogling his new elven companion.

“So, Hawke,” Fenris says, in his Fenris voice, and that doesn’t help things, not one bit. “You said there were bandits?”

“Aveline,” Hawke squeaks, and then clears his throat. “Aveline, why don’t you give us the details?”

She sighs, frowning, but does as he asks. Varric just smirks at Hawke, telling him he definitely wasn’t being subtle, but Hawke regrets nothing.


	33. Either Hawke or Fenris is sick and the other looks after them

The sound of coughing jerks Fenris from sleep. In the thin moonlight pouring through the broken window of their borrowed, abandoned farmhouse, he can see Hawke’s silhouette. He’s sitting up, his breathing raspy.

Fenris frowns, and sits too.

“Sorry, Fenris,” Hawke croaks. “Go back to sleep.”

“You sound terrible,” Fenris says , and puts an ear to Hawke’s back.

“What are you doing?” Hawke asks, twisting to try and look at him.

“Take a deep breath,” Fenris says, sharp enough that Hawke doesn’t question him. He breathes in and then lets it out, and Fenris listens carefully, is beyond relieved when he doesn’t hear the rattling he feared. He stays where he is, puts a hand to Hawke’s waist. Hawke is warm, too warm. His breathing sounds painful, but there’s not that sound.

“Can I stop breathing now?” Hawke asks, and Fenris snorts.

“Please don’t.”

“I mean-” Hawke coughs again, back shaking, and then moans. Fenris frowns deeper.

“Do we have any embrium?”

“I think so.”

Fenris gets up, goes to their small supply of herbs. He finds elfroot and embrium, pours a little of each into the mortar bowl.

“What are you doing?” Hawke asks as Fenris starts to grinds it, and then starts coughing again.

“Making a tea that will help your cough.”

“It’s nothing, Fenris. Come back to bed.”

Fenris is about to snap that he’s not going to get any sleep with Hawke hacking like that, but bites down on his temper. He looks up at Hawke, who is squinting at him in the darkness; he can probably only see Fenris at all because of the flash of his eyes.

“When I was a slave, most of Danarius’s soldiers treated me as such. But one was kind to me. Treated me as – almost an equal. One day, he started to cough - he insisted it was nothing, too. A week later he was dead. This tea might have saved him. So you will drink it, Hawke. I will not lose you.”

Fenris sets his jaw. Just saying those words-

He thinks of seeing Hawke fall in battle. He thinks of Meredith threatening him. Of close escapes from Templars and renegade mages both. Of bandaging Hawke’s wounds, seeing him bleed-

He lights a small fire with shaking hands and ignores his pounding heart. Methodically he measures the herbs, boils the water, ignores his fear. He will protect Hawke from anything that threatens him.

Hawke winces when he tastes the tea - if it tastes as bad as it smells, no wonder - but he drinks it all, and puts the cup aside.

The still-flickering orange fire means they can both see now, but Fenris can’t meet Hawke’s eyes.

“I will not lose you, Hawke,” he says again, fierce, determined, afraid.

“I’m not going anywhere, Fenris,” Hawke says, and pulls him close. He’s still too warm, but his breathing already sounds better; Fenris feels a little of his anxiety ease. “I’m right here, and I’m not planning on dying for a very long time.”

“You have a strange way of putting that plan into practice,” Fenris says, and holds Hawke a little tighter.


End file.
